It was a cold, rainy night out. It was totally dark, and the Joker had something to say about that. He grinned gleefully, his scars twisting into gruesome shapes as he observed his new creation. Gotham's oldest, and perhaps most prized, building was standing before him, loaded with bombs that were about to go off in, oh... About 45 seconds. And yet, there was still one haunting question within his insanely twisted, corrupt, yet intelligent mind.

Where was his Bats?

He huffed, turning around and searching the sky for his most favorite bat in the world, when he felt the air brush against his purple suit and across his narrow shoulders. Grinning again, he whirled around to meet the only one who could give him a real challenge- Batman.

Batman stared at the grinning clown before him, shuddering in complete and total revulsion. He was dressed in his usual get-up; purple coat, pants, and of his yellow tie and trademark green hair and facepaint. He was grinning lewdly, and then whirled around and opened his arms to the old, moss-covered college that hadn't been used since 1905.

"I'm so glad you came to watch the show, Batsy! Now sit back and relax, 'cause we're about to see a spec-tacular show of fireworks," he screeched with gleeful joy. Bruce's eyes widened, and without thouroghly thinking of the consequences, dashed toward the building, positive the Joker had at least one hostage in there.

Joker's grin faded as he saw Batsy running toward the building. Didn't he know it was about to bl-

A loud, ear-deafening, heart-stopping crash resounded ahead of him, and suddenly the Clown Prince was thrown back, smoke squeezing and constricting his lungs as he fell with a thump against the brick wall on the other side of the deserted, darkened road. Gasping, choking, and coughing, he struggled to sit up, his only thought of Batman who had been much closer to the building than he. He spotted the twisting, smoldering, burning brick of the once grand building, and saw no sight of his Batsy.

Well. Damn it all to hell and back again. He huffed and slowly got to his feet, legs shaking slightly as he threw himself forward, stomach lurching and his head spinning as the flames danced ahead of him. He couldn't see his Bats, but he knew he was in there. He ran towards the building and jumped in, the wood creaking and groaning under his weight. Instantly his world was thrown into chaos. Screaming splitting wood assaulted his ears, though all he could hear was ringing. He clapped a hand to his mouth and took a moment to appreciate what he had done, before stepping forwards, intent on finding his Batsy-bat when-

-when he was falling, falling, falling. He crashed onto the floor, atop something hard and cold. He oomphed and rolled over, glowering at the basement floor. He looked up. Well. It was about a twenty-foot drop, and there was no way in hell that he was gonna be able to get back up that way. He began looking around for a door when he spotted a oddly shaped black lump only a few feet away. Joker crawled over to it, and then whooped in glee. There was his Bats! He shook him, then pouted when he did nothing but moan. And then he saw the huge wooden beam that had fallen across his legs. Sighing, he spat on his hands and then rubbed them together, intent on pushing the offending object off of his Bats, when a idea occured to him. He would drag it off of him, but only after he saw his face. He smiled. There would be no cops now, no fists, no nothing. Just him, Bats, and the fire above their heads. He turned to the Batman's face and lovingly stroked his face, smiling bigger and bigger. His hand trailed to the edge of the mask, and then under. Curling his hand into a fist, he brought his hand up and with a loud pop!, the sweat-covered, dirty face of Batman appeared.

And Joker gasped.

He stared into the face of Gotham's resident playboy and billionaire, Bruce Wayne. Huh. Who knew that the stupid pretty-boy Wayne, owner of Wayne Enterprises and man who was known to have a different bimbo every other week, was also Gotham's resident vigilante and fear-inspiring bat?

Certainly not the Joker. He realized the irony of the situation, and, tilting his green head back, let out a loud, purposefully-feminine, grating chuckle before carefully picking up the discarded mask. Just as he was about to put it back on, his hazel eyes snapped open and he stared straight into his own. He gasped, one hand reaching up to his bare face.

"No," he whispered.

"Yes," the clown whispered back before putting his mask back on and dragging him out of the basement by the side door.

Bruce Wayne sat in his office, head in his hands as he contemplated what had occured last night. Whenever someone knocked on the door, he expected it to be the cops busting in, the Joker having told them who the Batman was, or even worse, the Clown Prince himself. But it was only his secretary everytime, and after six straight hours of paranoia, he finally decided, with some unease, that the Joker wasn't going to tell and wasn't going to make an appearance, when he walked in.

Bruce shot out of his desk, heart pounding as he thought about his situation. He had nothing- only the suit he wore upon his back. No weapons. No mask.

And no damned advil, either!

He wondered if he were to use it on his splitting headache and sore, bruised legs, or if he would throw it at the Joker's painted face and make a run for it.

Well, since his legs were currently shaking and screaming at him in protest for standing so quickly, he doubted he would chuck it at him. Damn, he doubted he'd be able to run past the desk.

He slowly eased himself back onto his seat, fists clenched and never taking his eyes off of the Joker.

"What do you want," he growled, his voice inadvertently switching from Bruce Wayne to Batman.

Joker chuckled as he stared at the man before him. "What do I, uh, want, Batsy? Or should I say, uh, Brucey?"

He tilted his head to the side and chuckled, staring at him. bruce growled low within his throat like a caged and enraged animal when the Joker slunk over to him. He sat on the desk and crossed his legs.

"Whassa matta, Bats? Scared that a clown uncovered your, uh, secret? Well, ya shouldn't be! I'm not gonna hurt ya, Brucey-Bruce! And I'm not, uh, gonna tell anyone our little secret. It is, after all, between a clown and his pet!"

Bruce snarled, "Its not our secret, you deranged psychopath! Now get the hell out of my office!"

"Well-uh, that's an awful way to treat a guess! Especially one who has a media-attention worthy secret of your's!"

"You wouldn't dare tell," he snapped.

Joker shrugged, a smile playing upon his scarred, twisted red lips. He wouldn't, of course, but that was for him to know and Bruce to find out.

"I must say though, Bats, I'm kinda disappointed in mah-self. I mean, c'mon! It shoulda been easy, for a guy like me, to figure out who ya were. But apparently, you're smarter than I gave ya credit for. Ya surprised me, Bats! And lemme tell ya something, that's not a easy thing to do! But ya did it! Congrats!" And then, without warning, Joker leaned forward and placed his lips against the other man's. Bruce froze for one second, and then feeling the Joker's lips move against his own, something inside of him, something he didn't even know he had, gave way. He tentatively reached up and ran a hand along Joker's twisted scars, earning a shudder from the Clown. All too soon, he pulled away with a smile on his face and flounced away from his desk and over to the door.

"I'll see ya later, Batsy! Ya can count on that!"

With his remark imprinted in Bruce Wayne's mind, the Joker disappeared, leaving Bruce with a odd sense of foreboding and a even stranger sense of pure, unfiltered excitement.